


This is us

by ChocoNut



Series: Many ways to say I love you [81]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x4 missing scene, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Season 8, passionate lovemaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: The morning after their first time, Brienne wonders if she is trapped in a dream.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Many ways to say I love you [81]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1234904
Comments: 17
Kudos: 87





	This is us

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt writing in present tense, thought I'd do it as an exercise. I hope it has come out fine.  
> Thank you for reading!

Brienne can hear the winds raging outside. 

And she can hear him breathing beside her, a warm, comforting sound that floods her with so much. Her senses jolt back and forth, in and out of consciousness. She can feel herself drifting—wandering between the real and the makings of her mind. 

This is real. _This is us._

She wants to open her eyes to receive the green pair, to find in them the desire with which he had kissed her last night. She wants to relive those moments, to feel him in her blood, to taste him again. She wants to leap into his passionate gaze, to drown deep in it, but something prevents her from looking, a little voice inside tells her that this is meant to be felt, not seen.

She wants to...

She wants him.

Even as the lust begins building up within her, ever so gently, she is beginning to sense a new consciousness. Even with her eyes shut, she can make out when he moves closer.

Like last night.

She can feel his lips on her neck. Sweet and tender, unlike last night, he kisses her softly, sensuously. “Jaime,” she purrs, stirring to the drawn-out, generous spread of his mouth on her skin. She tries again—she wants to see his thirst for her, but she cannot open her eyes. All she can do is lose herself to his touch.

Whatever this is, it is wonderful. She’s floating, somewhere high up on a cloud above, perhaps, even higher, the heavens, maybe. She is someplace no cares nor any woes can touch her. The only touch is him. She is with him, his body pressed against hers, his hand making a slow trip up her arm to meet her face. Everywhere he touches her burns with delight, with building desire, with a need to become one with him. She breathes in, and she can feel his scent drift up her senses; she breathes out, and she can hear the gentlest of sighs as her breath washes over his skin.

She cannot see Jaime, but he is here. This is now.

The lips come down upon her, starting a trail of kisses that run up the side of her neck, and with this gush of affection, is unleashed all the yearning within him. She wriggles, a pleasant tingling taking over when he brushes her earlobe lightly before sucking on it. He pauses there, a brief and lingering moment for her to absorb, to remember after it has passed by. She can feel his breath quickening, slipping out of rhythm. She can feel him thirsting for more of her.

This is him. She can feel it. 

His lips set out on some sort of a quest, a measured path, moving down her face ever so slowly before making their way to her cheek. Where they would end, she can quite guess, a squirm hitting her belly when she pictures it. One cheek, he takes first, then slides merrily to the tip of her nose, then up the slant of its bridge. Along the width of her forehead, he travels, before beginning his descent on the other side. A soft brush against her eyelids, then down to her cheek and across to her ear and back down her neck once again. 

Thus ends this trail.

And thus begins another.

She wants him on her lips, to kiss the hell out of her. She wants more than kisses. And she’s sure he knows it, too, for his lips start working their way towards her chest, leaving a trail of fire that spreads all over her body. 

“Yes,” she whispers, when his lips nestle within the hollow between her breasts, rubbing, nuzzling, massaging, his whiskers tickling her into a tremor that rushes down her spine and further. “Kiss me,” she demands, when he lurks around her breasts, running her fingers through his hair, and almost instantly, his mouth pushes against the peak of one, not quite kissing her, not quite moving on, lingering, teasing. She loves having his fingers pluck her teats, his tongue flicking across them, tasting her. 

He reads her mind. The kisses get firmer, more determined—as if he is inching towards a purpose, his hand joining in to caress her breasts—letting loose upon her the fingers that have the power to bring her to a screaming, writhing mess.

And she wants him to do it again. She wants him to make her cry so loudly that the gods can hear her scream his name.

He is an expert, that she could make out last night. Now again, she can sense he has something in store for her. The light caressing becomes a bit more urgent. The kisses turn into frantic sucking and licking. She sighs when she feels his teeth scrape against her aching nipple. She gasps, whispering dirty nothings when he traps the other between his prodding fingers. What had begun as a sensuous blanket of warmth spreading through her body is now turning into a torrid heat, blazing, rising flames, those that can be quenched only by—

Yes, she can feel him. On her skin. And within. Deep within.

This is him. This is now. 

He seems to have all the time in the world, and his mouth and tongue, slowly, but surely, lead her on an incredible journey. She can do nothing but accompany him, her gasps punctuating his urgent breathing as he showers his love on her teats. Hard with arousal and begging for his touch, they welcome him; they want more.

She is in heaven. All the seven at the same time. It is as if her senses have been split into seven, each in a different realm of bliss. “Jaime,” she whimpers, grinding her thighs together. She needs him there.

And just by the way she says his name, he can sense her hunger, her anticipation. Those wonderful lips leave her breasts to trail downwards, edging her towards her desperation, taking her a step close to an explosion with every inch they descend, every patch of skin they caress. 

Seconds pass. Or, maybe, minutes? She doesn’t know. She has lost track of time, of everything around her, in her mind—of everything, but him. 

He stops at her navel, lurking there a bit, playing around. A kiss here and a lick there, and she moans impatiently, her fingers curling into his arm tightly, pleading with him to move on with his journey, to make haste and get to his destination. 

Again, he reads into her touch, understands what she wants. She feels the hand slip down her breasts, lightly brushing down her side, teasing and ticklish, his stump tracing the inner edge of her thigh. His lips get closer and closer, nudging and kissing away to where it matters, to the center of the fire within her. Strong arms come to rest on her hips, clamping her down into position for what is to come.

He places hungry kisses to the slits of her folds, dipping in and flitting out, and she can’t help a groan. She needs him inside. She twists and turns against him, shifts her hips, going on until his mouth is where she wants it to be.

This is it, she knows, when his hand comes down on her forcefully.

The kisses begin to quicken now, each, a bolt of fire burning deep into her skin, provoking the warm wetness within her to flare up beyond she can take it. Her cunt begins to throb madly, awaiting his tongue and so much more. But he doesn’t oblige her that easily. Her thighs are what interest him first, and he devotes his attention to tasting them, taking his time. 

She grips the back of his neck to tell him that, to tell him to— 

She can’t wait anymore. She can’t have enough of this agony. She wants— 

“Gods,” she gasps, when he strikes her with a well-placed kiss in the core of her heat.

Her back arches into him, and with a much louder gasp, she pushes his head in. She wants to open her eyes, to look at him, but she can’t. 

All she can do is feel him. And it doesn’t matter, really.

He is here. _He_ is now.

A few more kisses turn into gentle licking, then a not-so-gentle slurping. With perfect rhythm, perfect pressure and expert skill, his tongue works its magic on her. A finger joins it, just as eager, just as enthusiastic to pleasure her into oblivion. So wet, she is, that it slips in effortlessly. 

“Jaime!” 

He twists the intruding finger, reaching within, reaching out, searching for something powerful enough to rip her to pieces, his thumb, meanwhile, engaging in its own pleasurable endeavours. Tongue and lips, teeth and fingers—all else fades out of existence as the waves of pleasure begin to build up within her.

“Faster,” she urges him, and the licking and massaging hit a pace she cannot tackle anymore. He pins her down, arms curled around her thighs, holding her in place. He ups his rhythm, so much, so much that— 

She thrashes, helpless, in agony. She grips the bedspread, grips him hard. She tries to fight it, to prolong it, but for not more than a few seconds, she can hold on, and she crashes.

Utterly. Completely. 

She gives in to the forces beyond her. To him. She lets him take her all the way, bursting out like a dam has broken open. Every part of her is alive, is roaring to go with this.

With him. 

He withdraws, and she sighs in utter contentment. She is not here, but floating. Somewhere up, above. Somewhere—

No, this is real. This is her bed. This is now.

A new sensation takes its place. Light kisses, sweet and gentle, trail up her body, up, up, until he meets her lips. She kisses him back hungrily. She can taste his lust. She can taste herself. 

“I love you, Brienne,” he whispers against her lips, and she opens her eyes.

He is here. And his heart is hers.

“I love you too,” she whispers back, pulling him into an embrace as he edges his cock into her.

They move together, hips locked in a rhythm, lips locked in kisses, tender, yet, fiery and demanding, never ending. He seeks her, and she draws him in. She needs more and he gives her exactly what she craves.

This is real.

Every kiss, every touch, every thrust. The little sob that bursts out of her lips as she drowns in her ecstasy, the body wrapped around her, absorbing her quivers, the strong arms holding her through her shuddering climax.

This is him.

Every flutter she can feel rushing through his skin. Every tremble, every spasm. Every beat of his heart that calls out to her, the soft cry of her name that drifts down his lips when he spills within her. 

This is now. Every moment of it, dripping with passion and emotion and so much more.

 _This is us_ , she tells herself, holding him tightly. _This will last forever—whatever forever means for us both._

And when she meets his loving gaze, she knows he knows it, too.


End file.
